Study Buddies
by palmaviolet
Summary: What if the Young Ones had survived that crash and gone on to have young ones of their own. Scary thought I know, but the characters just wandered into my head one day and refused to leave. Hope you like it. ONE SHOT.


**Although the characters here are my own, all praise must go to Rik Mayall, Lise Mayer and Ben Elton for creating the originals. Read and Review, please xx.**

_In every job that must be done_

_There is an element of fun_

_You find the fun and SNAP_

_The job's a game!_

"I'm not saying it's a _bad_ title; I just don't think "What The Bloody Hell Was Hitler's Problem?" is appropriate for an essay on why the war started," Rachel said, trying hard not to look directly into the fierce blue-green eyes of the punk sitting on the end of her bed.

The four teenagers had been sitting in Rachel's lavishly decorated, white and purple bedroom, doing their homework for almost half an hour now and Stevie and Rachel's patience's were wearing thin. Stevie was annoyed by Rachel's constant "helpful suggestions". Rachel was irritated at Stevie's utter incompetence and inability to do anything right coupled with the fact she wasn't paying any attention to her helpful advice.

"There! Right _there_!" Stevie said to Ryan, gesturing wildly at Rachel, "_That_ is why no one likes her!"

Ryan rolled his eyes and smirked whilst pushing his artistically tousled black hair out of his face, far too cool to get involved further.

"Bitch!" Rachel cursed, furiously throwing a rubber at her head. It missed, of course, and hit the clock on the wall behind her, cracking the glass and knocking it off its perch.

In response to that failed attempt of revenge, Stevie slammed Rachel's laptop shut on her slim, manicured fingers.

"Stevie!" she squealed, from a combination of anger and agony, "This was expensive!"

"Oh wow guys!" droned a familiar monotonous voice from the doorway, "I, like, just go to the toilet for five second – five seconds, like – and you guys are doing something really exciting, like without me. You're always doing that maybe I should just like…guys! Guys!" Nigel sighed, realising no one was listening to his moan – Ryan was trying to get a signal on his mobile, Stevie was carving her name into the foot of Rachel's bed using her penknife and Rachel was still nursing her hands – so he sat down on the bit of Clingfilm Rachel had laid down for him.

Rachel said it was because he was, "utterly filthy" and she didn't want him messing up her stuff but Nigel disagreed. Sure the last bath he had taken was 2 weeks ago and it had been even longer since his clothes had had a wash but everyone knew it wasn't cool for the planet to be washing all the time.

Although, if you didn't include his friends Solar Panel and Compost, not many people _did_ agree with him, especially not his dad. Sometimes Nigel looked at his dad dressed up in his business suit (which Compost said had probably been made by blind Bangladeshi street children) and driving around in his mega heavy ozone killing, bully boy car and wondering if they were actually related. He furrowed his brow in thought and his greasy ash blond dreadlocks fell in front of his face.

"Don't worry, Nige," Ryan said, not looking up from his phone, "You didn't miss much, this one isn't even worth putting up on YouTube to be honest. But you can have a look if you really want." He handed his camera phone to Nigel – well, tried to as Rachel snatched it from him.

"Don't let him have it Ry; he'll just get all of his nasty germs on it!"

"Yeah smelly hippie!" Stevie shouted gleefully.

"Whoop!" Rachel cheered, "We told you! Girl power!"

The two girls high-fived before remembering that mortal enemies weren't supposed to do that, so they both scowled at each other fiercely to make up for it.

"Oh yeah, everyone just oppress Nigel and bring him down, that's just really cool isn't it?"

"Oh boo hoo, Moaning Myrtle," Rachel paused, waiting for everyone to get her hilarious joke – they didn't, "This is my house isn't it? So I'm in charge! So stop your moaning, hippie!"

"You know, like, guys, sometimes, when I'm, like, feeling really low, I feel like you guys take me for granted and, like, the only reason you let me hang out with you is so you can copy my maths homework."

"Nigel, that _is _the only reason we let you hang out with us," Ryan said frankly, ready to move on from this and go on to more important, cool person things like looking at himself in the mirror "And coincidentally have you done this week's homework yet?"

"It's in my bag, I'll go get it shall I?" Nigel mooched out the door, not really waiting for an answer.

"Good one, Ry!" Rachel beamed, flipping her dark brown hair out of her face, "Oh and Nigel," she shouted, not bothering to move, "You'll have to write mine up for me, won't you, seeing as Stevie's gone and broken both of my hands!"

Stevie lunged for Rachel, grabbing her collar, "Shut up or I'll kill you!"

Rachel looked shaken by that but soon regained her confidence and said, "No you wouldn't because you'd get the death penalty."

"What?"

"Someone would come along and execute you, you utter thicko!"

"I know what the death penalty _is_! It's just illegal in this country – I should know, the lady from work experience told me that, back in year 9 when I wanted to be an executioner."

"You can still get the death penalty for treason!" Rachel retorted.

"Yes treason which means killing a princess or something," Stevie snapped back.

"I'm as good as!"

"Rachel, Princess Beatrice is a princess, Cinderella is a princess; you, on the other hand, are the spoilt, snotty, smelly, bitch-ass whore daughter of an MP and a Tory one at that!"

"Killing me would be going against your country which is tweason!" Rachel, who had been in and out of speech therapists all her young life, only lisped when she was getting really pissed.

"Keeping you _alive _is going against my country!"

Rachel scowled and looked down at Stevie's essay. She squinted slightly so she could pick out some of the words in the childish hieroglyph. "Erm Stevie…"

"Yes?"She snapped, absentmindedly fiddling with the ripped hem of her Sex Pistols tee-shirt.

"I think you've spelt "Hitler" wrong on your essay. Several times."

But before Rachel could even begin to give her the correct spelling had the flame-haired punk smashed her fancy new laptop over her head, knocking her out instantly.

* * *

**A/N In case you didn't guess who was related to who, here is a quick list:**

**Rachel = Rick (Rik Mayall's full name is Richard. Richard/_Rachel_? Geddit? Plus I can imagine Rick being a huge FRIENDS fan)**

**Stevie = Vyvyan (I just love the name Stevie for this character - in case you were wondering Stevie isn't short for Stephanie it's short for Perspheone. Nothing like a name like Persepheone to to turn you into a physco, eh?)**

**Ryan = Mike (The original Mike was played by a bloke named Christopher _Ryan_)**

**Nigel = Neil (The original Neil was played by a bloke named _Nigel_ Planer)**

**The quote at the start is from Mary Poppins (I can just imagine Rachel being the type of girl who would _love_ show tunes) and the essay Stevie is working on is based on the exam I have to do on the same topic. **


End file.
